


Tell Me Some Things Last

by alexislord, killerqueer



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Alternative Universe - Everybody Lives, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Biting, Blow Jobs, Descriptions of enjoying pain, Emotional Sex, Hand Jobs, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Miscommunication, Punching Inanimate Objects, Rejection, Unresolved Emotional Tension, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 00:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14069184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexislord/pseuds/alexislord, https://archiveofourown.org/users/killerqueer/pseuds/killerqueer
Summary: After Ben and Beverly's wedding, Bill and Richie return to the Denbrough's cabin for a romantic weekend, that has been entirely soured by Richie's rejection of Bill's proposal.





	Tell Me Some Things Last

As the door shut behind them, Richie walked straight into the kitchen to look for a lighter, a cigarette an unfortunate necessity. Bill lagged behind, locking the door and leaning his head against it in resignation. He sighed quietly, not looking for attention, but simply for a release.

After he pushed the air out of his lungs in a silent huff, Bill held his breath, his lungs empty. It was a nice distraction, just for a moment, the pain physical instead of emotional. A burning sensation crept up Bill’s throat, pressure building inside his body, until it insisted on a deep inhale. And he did as he was instructed, unable to resist the natural impulse, but he immediately regretted it.

“Bill, are you okay? What happened?” Richie called, his voice laced with so much worry, it made Bill’s heart ache.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” he answered, knocking his head against the door a few times before proceeding into the kitchen.

The first thing he noticed when he entered the room were Richie’s eyes fixed towards the door, waiting for him. There were so many emotions swimming in his eyes, cycling, intermingling, and fixing on one feeling for a second that felt like a year. Bill hated himself for looking away, but it was a matter of being composed or completely broken. And in that moment, Bill chose the former.

He remembered when all he wanted to do was look into Richie’s eyes and nowhere else. Hell, that had been hours ago. But now, it felt like looking into the sun; the turmoil was too sublime in Richie’s eyes. The windows to his soul were open and the contents would drown Bill if he let them.

“Goddamnit!” Richie exclaimed, the noise drawing Bill’s attention back to him, as he pulled an empty pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

He crushed it in his fist in frustration, the fingers on his other hand tapping on the table aggressively. Smoking wasn’t an addiction for Richie. At least he told himself it wasn’t; rarely did he feel like he _needed_ a cigarette to get through the day. But anything that would dull the pounding in his head, as it raced through assumptions and spun with emotions, was the tether to sanity that he desperately needed.

“Are you out?” Bill asked softly. “I could go pick some up from the gas station. It’s only a 40 minute round trip.”

All Richie’s muscles tensed in fear of what would happen if Bill left. As Bill started heading towards the door, Richie reached out a grabbed Bill’s arm. Feeling his boyfriend pause, Richie looked up at him and shook his head. “No, Bill, you don’t have to do that. Please don’t.”

 _Please stay_ , Richie wanted to add, but couldn’t bring himself to ask. It wasn’t his place to make demands like that. Not anymore.

Bill wasn’t looking down at him, but he nodded, and Richie felt relief wash over him, his fingers trailing down Bill’s sleeve as he let him go.

Disappointed that his chance to leave - to get some air, and maybe some perspective, had been taken away, Bill sat down at the table, and watched as Richie threw his empty pack on the ground. If this had happened on a normal night, Richie would have been elated Bill wanted to take care of him, maybe even go with him on the errand, and insist on buying something stupid, fun, and useless or unhealthy while they were there. But now, apparently, Richie didn’t even want his boyfriend to take care of him...if Bill could still call himself that.

Pulling at his neck, Bill removed his bowtie in one easy motion. He reached around to unbuckle his cummberbund, depositing both onto the table. Bill could have left his outfit on, could have tried to extend the celebration and hope he’d felt when he had put it on in the first place. But he didn’t find any use in it now. Richie had made things pretty clear and it was time to move forward.

“Fuck,” Bill heard Richie mutter under his breath.

As he looked over, Bill saw him struggling to get his own bowtie off. Bill smiled automatically, surprised he still could, and went behind Richie to help. His hands automatically went to touch him, the act so rehearsed and familiar, but stopped himself. Fingers hovering just an inch from Richie’s jacket, Bill watched his hands shake at the effort of being held back.

“Can I?” Bill asked quietly, and waited until Richie’s head bobbed in approval.

Nimbly, Bill reached in between his boyfriend’s suit jacket and shirt, finding the hook in the back. Beverly had insisted that her Man Of Honor wear a bow tie that couldn’t come apart in the middle of the ceremony. Richie had cursed her out for it, but obliged, of course. He loved her and it was her day, after all.

As he unhooked the tie, Bill’s fingers brushed against Richie’s neck accidentally. Bill watched as Richie’s neck broke out in goosebumps, and he could have sworn Richie leaned into the touch before pulling back away. But it was so subtle, Bill couldn’t be sure; maybe his mind was playing tricks on him.

Without speaking, Richie stood up, removing his suit jacket. He waited, silently asking Bill for assistance. His cummberbund had ripped before they had even arrived at the venue and had to be safety pinned to Richie’s shirt. Bill looked at the silver pins, glinting even in the low light of the cabin. A hand closed around his heart and squeezed, as he recalled the simple flirtatious touches and teasing he had inflicted upon Richie as he put it in place. His voice husky, Richie had demanded that as soon as they were alone, Bill was getting payback.

And here they were...alone. Bill could see them, he could imagine Richie’s legs around his waist as Bill pushed him up against the wall. Richie actively trying to hurt him, biting, digging his nails into Bill’s back, blood dripping from Bill’s lip and staining his white shirt. And, since the shirt was ruined anyway, Richie would have ripped it off to get his claws on Bill’s chest.

Instead, Bill reached for the pins hesitantly, fumbling with them as his hands continued to shake, pricking his finger in the process.

“Damn it,” Bill mumbled, putting his finger in his mouth, hoping the spit would stop the blood.

Richie whipped around, turning with his cummberbund only half on, the other half dragging on the ground. The sight that would normally be humorous did nothing to shift the mood of either man. But Richie’s eyes returned to Bill’s, filled entirely at the moment with concern for him. It should have been beautiful, but the sight left an acrid taste in the back of Bill’s throat, like he had heartburn.

“Did you prick yourself?” Richie asked softly, and Bill nodded, his finger still in his mouth.

“Let me see it,” Richie urged. When Bill didn’t immediately listen to his command, Richie sighed. “Do you want to get a fucking infection from my pin? Just let me see it, dumbass.”

Bill acquiesced, but told Richie, “You sound like Eddie.” It earned him an upward glancing glare, but he saw hope in Richie’s eyes for just a moment. They were joking and joking was normal. Maybe not everything was broken.

As Richie examined Bill’s finger, Bill couldn’t help but savor the touch and watch Richie’s face. He studied the injury carefully, his brow furrowed, and his glasses low on his nose. Finally, after what felt like a moment and an eternity, Richie looked up at Bill and told him, “I think it’ll be fine, but you should wash it out at least.”

Nodding, Bill looked down to avoid Richie’s eyes, his glance falling onto their hands, as Richie still held onto his. At first, Bill wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not. But Richie’s fingers intertwined with Bill’s as his thumb rubbed gently against Bill’s hand. Bill let himself indulge in the touch for a minute, wondering if it would be the last of its kind before slowly retracting his hand.

He took back his hand and made a circular motion with his outstretched pointer finger, silently asking Richie to turn around, and Richie obliged. Bill unfastened the remaining pins, pulling the cummerbund off. Richie leaned back into Bill’s torso, head falling back on Bill’s shoulder. On autopilot, Bill’s hands found their way around Richie’s waist, his pinky grazing Richie’s hip bone. A soft, breathy sigh escaped Richie’s mouth as he leaned his full form back into Bill, his head lolling back and forth.

Just as Bill went to leave a trail of kisses down Richie’s exposed neck, the lights went out, making the house pitch black and deadly silent. It flipped a switch in their intimate dynamic and Bill immediately let Richie go, muttering that he had to go flip the breakers, leaving his boyfriend cold and alone in the dark.

Pulling off his glasses, Richie held them between his thumb and pointer finger, using his others to press on his eyes as hard as he could. Tears were lurking behind his eyelids, threatening to come out at any second. And he couldn’t cry yet, not when Richie didn’t know if there was anything to cry about.

Richie threw his cummerbund on the floor as he headed to the bedroom slowly, the cabin almost pitch black. Bill had dropped their bags off at his parents’ cabin before the wedding, on the way to Beverly and Ben’s scenic mountain venue. It was set up to be a magical, romantic weekend for the two of them, but had ended up a shit show.

As Richie felt along the wall, trying to navigate in total darkness, the lights suddenly came back on, momentarily blinding him. He put his glasses back on his nose, eyes still shut tight as his eyes tried to adjust to the light. Finally comfortable enough to open them, Richie’s eyes flew open but immediately fell shut again. In that moment, he wished he really was blind, or that the lights had stayed off permanently.

He’d only caught a glance, but it was enough to finally break the dam, sending tears down his cheeks. The bed was covered in rose petals, champagne chilling on the nightstand. When Bill had said he needed to run some errands for Ben, this was clearly what he had been doing.

As the tears finally fell and his vision cleared, Richie realized the petals were placed in a heart on the bed, a “B + R” in the center of it. As much as it pained him, Richie followed the path clearly laid out for him into the bathroom, finding petals in the empty bathtub. He stared for a minute, dumbfounded, before taking a deep breath.

“I didn’t know if you were supposed to put them in before or after you filled the bath,” Bill admitted softly, having come up behind him almost silently.

 _After, you fucking dumbass,_ Richie thought. He wanted to turn and pull Bill to him and kiss the moron he loved so much. But all he could do was wipe his eyes, turn around and nod. Richie caught Bill looking at him, just for a moment, before turning around for the third time. Was Richie that repulsive to look at now?

“Why don’t you wash up and get changed, and I’ll set up the couch to sleep on?” Bill proposed, looking to Richie for confirmation, but swallowing hard as their eyes met once more.

“Bill, c’mon, you don’t have to sleep on the fucking couch. We can…”

“Share the bed covered in rose petals after you rejected my proposal?” Bill finished, tone incredulous. “No, I’ll sleep out there.”

Richie opened his mouth to argue, to beg Bill to talk to him. But it simply fell closed again, as he watched Bill take a pillow from one side of the bed, leaving the arrangement lopsided and half empty. Richie hated how fitting that was.

Shutting the door behind him, Richie’s eyes instantly began flooding again. He scooped up the petals aggressively, throwing them towards the trash can, unaware if they made it in or not. Running the water to get it hot, Richie fell to his knees, emotions mixing with the excess of alcohol in his stomach.

He reached for the toilet, getting the lid up just in time, as he retched into it over and over until he was sincerely empty. Richie hated throwing up usually, but it felt good to get something out, his tongue tied, despite its usual free flying nature, especially when he was drunk. But everything right now felt so bottled up, and he was grateful something had reached the breaking point.

Flushing as he stood up, Richie undressed and hopped into the shower. The water was so hot it was almost scalding, turning his skin red and steaming up the room. But Richie appreciated each hot pin prick. He was getting lost in his head, in his thoughts and feelings, and that was dangerous. Pain kept his mind in the moment. It forced Richie to stay where he was and it felt like a blessing from God. Maybe the disgust he felt for himself would burn out of him.

As soon as he heard the shower running, Bill brought the pillow to his face and screamed into it, hoping letting something out would help. But it didn’t really and Bill started hyperventilating, pacing in a circle. He could hear Eddie’s voice echoing in his head, telling him to slow down, that he’d pass out if he kept this up.

Eventually, Bill resigned to listening to the voice and walked over to the freezer, grabbing a full carton of ice cream out, and just one spoon from the silverware drawer. Peeling the lid off, Bill dug in right away, hoping the sugar would release some endorphins he desperately needed. But, after a few heaping spoonfuls, he simply left the spoon in the container. All his happy brain chemicals seemed to be gone and, honestly, Bill wasn’t surprised.

In defeat, Bill reached into his pocket, pulling out his cell phone. The guys were still partying when Richie and Bill had left abruptly, too embarrassed by the rejection to return to the festivities. He wondered if they were still awake, as he tried to decide what the best thing to do in this situation was.

Bill had assumed his boyfriend would say yes, so he hadn’t planned for what he would do if Richie said ‘no’. And he didn’t know what Richie wanted, didn’t even know how to ask. Should he stay? Did Richie want to talk? But the air tasted sour as Bill replayed Richie turning him down in his head. No, Richie had spoken. Clearly, he didn’t want Bill around.

So Bill dialed Mike’s number, pacing all the while as he waited for him to pick up. Bill cursed when Mike’s voicemail message began after a few rings. That was just his luck rearing its ugly head tonight. So busy being frustrated and wallowing, Bill almost missed the beep that told him to begin his message.

“Hey Mike, it’s Bill. But you obviously know that because of caller ID. Anyway, I...need a ride. Anywhere. Richie and I are...fighting and I don’t think I can stay here tonight. Just come as soon as you can, okay? Thanks buddy.” Bill finished, rolling his eyes at himself.

Every word had sounded so unsure coming out of his mouth, and he hated himself for not planning out what he was going to say. But planning was clearly not Bill Denbrough’s strong suit. His head fell into his hands as he shook it back and forth, hoping against hope that it would send him back in time or make him forget everything.

The hot water wasn’t doing its job anymore, and it left Richie with too much clarity to think and feel again. And everything, his grief and pain and confusion and frustration had all coalesced into one concentrated emotion. Rage. He could feel it, surging through his being, begging to be released.

And he let it go, straight into the tile of the shower. Richie punched it once, watching a tiny crack in the lower left corner push a piece of the tile out and onto the bottom of the tub. It left a small scratch on his knuckles and he dug into it with his nail, grimacing at the pain, but basking in it. Winding up, Richie sent his fist into the tile again, over and over, watching as the water pooling by his feet turned pink with the blood from his hand mixed in.

Richie waited until his hand had mostly stopped bleeding before he got out, turning off the water. He hadn’t washed his hair or body, but the space had become claustrophobic, and the last thing he wanted to feel right now was trapped.

Wrapping toilet paper around his hand, Richie changed into his pajamas, gazing at the bed longingly. He wanted to collapse into it, drift off to sleep, and never wake up. There was so much tension in the air with Bill right now, it constantly felt like something was going to shatter. Richie was stranded on a frozen lake and any step could spell disaster.

But he couldn’t stay where he was either. The ground would inevitably fall out from under him if he didn’t do something. So Richie pulled on his sweater with the extra long sleeves, trying to disguise his bloodied hand, and made his way into the living room. Bill was sitting at the dining room table, ice cream slowly melting in the carton in front of him. He was moving it around with the spoon absentmindedly, thoughts clearly elsewhere.

As he sat down though, Richie felt Bill’s attention shift from wherever it had been back to reality and to Richie himself. Sighing, Bill walked over to the counter, grabbing a bottle of chilled champagne and slumped back into his seat. As he popped open the bottle, the cork aimed away from the both of them, Bill and Richie both winced at the sound, as the pressure released from the bottle.

Without hesitation, Bill brought the bottle to his lips, throwing it back, gulping the alcohol down. Richie couldn’t hold back the scoffed laugh that came out automatically at the sight. “No glasses?”

“No time,” Bill replied, taking another long swig. “And no need.”

Reaching out, Richie asked for the bottle silently, and Bill obliged, handing it over. “This is the strongest thing here?”

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Bill said, his eyes tired. “I was expecting a celebration, so it’s all I brought.”

Nodding as he looked at the table, dejected, Richie put the bottle to his lips, drinking for as long as he could. The champagne was light, sweet and tasty, but it felt like Richie was breaking a law of the universe by drinking it when things were falling apart instead of coming together. Champagne was a festive drink for new beginnings, not to cope when things were a disaster. That’s what spirits were for.

After a few more pulls back and forth, Bill downed the last dregs of the bottle, before getting up to toss it in the trash. When he returned, Richie didn’t notice that his boyfriend was right behind him until his shirt sleeve was being pulled back, revealing Richie’s terrible bandage job.

“I broke some of the tiles in the shower,” Richie explained, tone sullen.

“Let’s clean you up. I’ll grab the first aid kit.” Bill said. “And don’t you dare try to talk me out of it. You checked my safety pin pricked finger like it needed amputation.”

Finding the first aid kit with relative ease, Bill rejoined Richie at the table and unwrapped his hand. The knuckles were bloodied, sure to be bruised underneath, and had visible shards of tile embedded in them. “This is gonna hurt,” he warned, pulling tweezers out of the pack.

He tried to be delicate, but Richie’s knuckles were tender, and every piece of tile removed was met with at least three expletives from his boyfriend. “Holy fucking shit, Bill. Jesus Christ! Are you almost done?”

“Yeah, you fucking baby, we’re almost done. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better, though.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Richie asked, his face falling as Bill pulled antiseptic out of the kit.

Bill walked Richie to the sink, rinsing off his knuckles, before finally pouring the cleanser onto them. The alcohol burned Richie’s hand, and he winced, muscles tensing as he cursed Bill out again. To calm him, Bill placed his hand on Richie’s shoulder, his thumb gently grazing the back of Richie’s neck.

Immediately calmer, Richie quieted as he leaned back into the touch, burying his head in Bill’s chest. The tender touch made Bill’s heart race and, for one brief moment, everything felt normal. Like the high he had felt from the wedding, and his heart falling down an elevator shaft when Bill realized Richie wasn’t excited about the idea of marrying him, had never happened. Bill finished wrapping Richie’s knuckles and, caught up in the tenderness of the moment, leaned down to kiss Richie on the lips.

His boyfriend was stiff at first, surprised at the forwardness, but leaned in just as Bill pulled away from him, leaving Richie to chase after his lips. “I’m sorry,” Bill muttered, not entirely sure why he was saying it.

Huffing in frustration, Richie grabbed Bill’s shirt with his good hand, keeping Bill close forcibly, as he tried to pull away. “Damn it, Bill, you don’t need to be sorry! We’re fucking dating! You’re allowed to kiss me.”

Moving his hand to Bill’s cheek, Richie turned Bill’s face, making him look Richie in the eyes, before asking softly, “Please kiss me?”

And that was all it took. The wall holding back their desires collapsed and Bill surged forward, his teeth knocking against Richie’s in the heat of the moment. Richie moaned into his mouth, holding onto Bill desperately, his hands behind Bill’s neck, demanding more.

Bill clutched at Richie’s hips, overwhelmed by the sudden shift in their dynamic, but also so afraid that this might be his last chance to have this with Richie that he pushed forward. He made sure to pour everything he had into the kiss, sliding his hands up Richie’s back to pull him in ever closer and swallowing every noise his boyfriend made. He hated to think that he might not be able to call him that for much longer.

Richie’s uninjured hand was still gripping onto the collar of the white button down he had worn to the wedding, the bandaged one resting on Bill’s shoulder. He winced as he tried to grab hold of Bill’s neck with it, the open cuts on his knuckles brushing against the gauze Bill had so carefully wrapped them in, but he ignored it. He was much more focused on the man in front of him.

Given the events of the evening, he hadn’t even been sure if Bill would want to look at him, let alone touch him like this. So every move Bill made, every touch he felt, Richie wanted to encourage, treasure, and remember. If this was the ending, he wanted to go out with a bang.

Bill’s arms around him had always been his biggest comfort, his favorite security blanket, from when they were kids to just moments before, his hand stinging like crazy. Just having those strong arms around his back was reassuring, gave him hope that they might be able to fix this. But he had seen the look in Bill’s eyes when he was kneeling outside the reception. He’d seen the way Bill’s face had fallen at Richie’s reaction and heard the heartbreak in his voice.

_“You don’t want to get married, do you?”_

Those words, the broken way they had sounded coming out of Bill’s mouth, were still ringing in his ears.

No, he didn’t want to get married, but that didn’t mean he didn’t love Bill. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t do anything for him, or that he didn’t want to spend the rest of their lives together. It didn’t mean that he didn’t want to find a way to fix this.

If nothing else, Richie reminded himself, Bill was still here. His fingers were still burning themselves into Richie’s back. He was still holding him as though Richie still meant something to him, and that had to mean that this wasn’t over. Not yet.

Bill melted into Richie’s touch as his fingers fell onto his neck. This was all so familiar, so natural, so _normal_ , for them it was almost easy to forget the context of the situation. But the reality of it all twisted the familiarity of Richie’s lips on his, Richie’s hands pulling him in closer, to some kind of depressing caricature of the intimacy they had always shared.

He wasn’t ready to let it go though, and when Richie began tugging him forward, he followed. He savored every sound that Richie made as he dragged Bill out of the cabin’s little kitchenette, their mouths only separating long enough to get in gasping breaths here and there. These were Bill’s favorite sounds in the world. He could write entire novels based on the sounds Richie made when they were together like this.

It wasn’t until the backs of his knees hit the couch cushions that Bill realized that they were back in the  living room. Bill sank back into the thick, soft cushions. It only took a few seconds for Richie to clamber on top of him, his knees on either side of Bill’s hips and his fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck.

Bill broke away from Richie’s mouth as his long thin fingers tug lightly at Bill’s hair and looked warily up at him. His own hands had come to rest on Richie’s bony hips and Richie was staring back at him, kiss swollen lips red and full, shining with spit and a hopeful look in his eyes that confused the hell out of Bill.

“Is...is this okay?”

Bill could hear the worry in his voice, he could see it in Richie’s eyes. It took all he could muster to not allow the tears that had been threatening him since they left the reception to form. Richie had never looked so unsure with him in the entire time that Bill had known him, and he wanted the easy dynamic they always had back now more than ever. He never wanted Richie to doubt how much Bill loved him, how much Bill wanted him. He swallowed heavily.

That had been the whole point of Bill’s proposal earlier that night.

But it was clearly taking him too long to voice his thoughts, because Richie was now chewing on his lip, uncertainty visible on his face as he opened his mouth to speak again.

“Do you want to do this?”

Bill could hear the unspoken _‘Do you want_ **_me_ ** _?’_ on Richie’s tongue, and the answer was yes, always yes, it would never be anything else.

But Bill had already scared Richie off with his words once tonight. He was afraid that any more confessions of how much he truly wanted Richie, how far he would go for him, would seal the deal. That if he said too much, Richie would get up off the couch and walk away. That he’d go back to the bedroom or, if even that wasn’t enough space, leave the cabin entirely. Leave Bill there...alone.

So instead of speaking, he nodded. So fast it was almost unnoticeable as he dove back in, his arms wrapping tighter around Richie’s middle and his lips latching onto the skin of Richie’s neck. Bill nipped harshly on the soft expanse, before smoothing his tongue over the abused skin. If this was the last time he was going to have Richie like this, he was going to make it worth remembering.

Richie’s breath caught in his throat as Bill’s teeth bit down on his collarbone, and he felt a small, unbidden rush of happiness at the feeling. Now _this_ was the Bill he was used to.

He ground down into Bill’s lap encouragingly, his head falling back as he let out a low moan. The combination of Bill’s mouth on his neck, and the way he was rubbing against Bill’s lap was doing quick work of getting Richie hard, and he could feel himself beginning to tent in his sweatpants. When he looked down, the sight of his erection against Bill’s well fitting trousers had his heart picking up its pace.

“You looked so good tonight in this suit, babe,” he gasped out, his voice cracking slightly as Bill bites down again.

He wanted Bill to talk to him, to say _anything_ at all. They were usually so talkative in bed and Richie was desperate for the normalcy of hearing Bill’s voice, his stutter reappearing as they made each other feel good.

Bill said nothing.

Instead, he tore his mouth away from Richie’s neck and captured Richie’s once more, effectively silencing him for a moment, as he slid his hands up the back of Richie’s soft, old t-shirt. Richie had never been easy to shut up though, and it hardly surprised him when Richie broke away once more to keep going.

“I wanted to touch you all day,” he continued, his voice low and breathy. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

Bill wasn’t sure he could handle this, if Richie kept saying these things. What could possibly be possessing him to think that saying all that would do anything other than break his heart even further after what had happened? But he was angrier with himself than he was with Richie, because he was the dumb schmuck who was listening to Richie and believing it.

Richie’s good hand was snaking its way between their chests and for a moment, Bill thought he was going to start touching himself. He could feel Richie’s cock against his leg, not all the way there yet, but Richie’s hand passed by to grope at Bill’s crotch.

He flushed scarlet as Richie’s hand started cupping Bill’s flaccid dick through his trousers, thoroughly embarrassed that he hadn’t been able to get it up himself. Richie continued rubbing at him through the fabric, still pushing down on Bill’s thigh for friction on his own dick. By all accounts, it was incredibly hot and should have been more than enough to get Bill going. But it just laid there, refusing to show any interest in the attention Richie was showing it.

He could feel his chest tightening with panic. Bill could see on Richie’s face that he hadn’t been expecting this to be so difficult. It was only a matter of time before Richie decided it wasn’t worth it and then his last chance to be with him would be over before it began.

“I g-g-got it, Rich,” he mumbled softly.

Bill pressed one last kiss to Richie’s jawline before brushing Richie’s hand aside and undoing his own belt buckle. Richie had a hurt expression on his face but Bill looked away almost as soon as he saw it, focusing instead on popping open the button of his trousers and pulling down the zipper.

Richie watched as Bill’s hand disappears underneath the waistband of his briefs, unable to stop the feeling of a phantom punch to the gut as Bill sat there, touching himself. Did Bill really not want Richie to touch him? Was the concept of Richie _touching_ him so repulsive that he couldn’t get off with Richie’s hands on him?

Bill’s eyes were screwed shut, and Richie watched as Bill absentmindedly drew his bottom lip between his teeth. Richie wanted to reach out and touch his jaw, to kiss the tension away, to suck that lip in between his own. But after being pushed away, he was afraid to make any sudden movements and simply watched, as Bill’s hand began pumping underneath his briefs.

Bill could feel Richie’s eyes on him, even with his eyes closed, and he almost felt guilty. But he couldn’t focus on the task at hand knowing Richie’s expectations and hearing his soft words. Bill knew that Richie didn’t mean them, couldn’t mean them. He gripped his soft dick in his fist, swiping his thumb over the head and rubbing the underside where it met the shaft, and sighing in relief at the slight tremor of pleasure he felt at the action.

In an attempt to forget the feeling of Richie staring at him from his perch on Bill’s lap, he took a deep breath and let his mind wander. As he dragged his hand up the shaft, he imagined Richie’s hand, but the hand he imagined had a sturdy band around one of the fingers that pulled deliciously against his skin. The Richie in his mind was wearing his ring, and he imagined with a whimper the scene from earlier, except instead of the look of horror that had been on his boyfriend’s face when Bill had dropped down on one knee, he had smiled at him.

They weren’t on the couch anymore, they were on the bed, surrounded by rose petals, and Bill didn’t feel like crying. He was smiling and laughing with Richie as they touched each other, half full champagne flutes on the nightstand.

He was fisting his cock tighter now, and he could feel himself starting to perk up, filling out his fist as he grew harder. Choked moans escape Bill’s lips, as he rapidly dragged his hand up and down the shaft. Just as imaginary Richie leaned forward to kiss him, he was jarred back to reality as the actual Richie - the Richie that _didn’t_ want to marry him - placed a hand on his thigh.

“Can I?”

Bill’s eyes snapped open to see Richie’s hopeful face, and looked down to stare at his left hand with the bare ring finger hovering tentatively over Bill’s own.

He nodded, drawing his hand back out from his briefs and Richie leaned in, smiling gratefully as he slid his own hand down and pressed his lips to Bill’s once more. He wrapped his fingers around Bill and began working up and down the shaft, deft twists of his wrists as he reached the top, rubbing the pad of his thumb along the underside. His right hand, still stinging from the tiles, tightened its grip on Bill’s neck, massaging his upper back gently. And when Bill let out a shuddering breath, Richie smiled against his mouth.

“Let’s get this jacket off, huh?” he murmured, hand dragging down to Bill’s chest to push at the lapels of Bill’s suit jacket. He cheered internally as Bill nodded, moving his lips to kiss down Bill’s neck as his boyfriend adjusted to pull the jacket off, tossing it over the back of the couch.

Richie pulled back to look down at Bill, perfectly combed hair now mussed, and his once smooth white shirt wrinkled and riding up his abdomen, with Richie’s hand down his pants. His free hand slid down his boyfriend’s abdomen, and then back up, popping open the top few buttons of Bill’s shirt. He kept an eye on Bill’s face, though, to see if Bill was giving any indication that it wasn’t okay.

Thankfully it didn’t come, and Richie withdrew his hand from Bill’s pants for a moment to make quick work of the rest of the buttons, revealing the smooth expanse of Bill’s chest. He ran his hands across Bill’s torso, pressing his hips down again until their cocks were touching, rubbing against each other. Bill’s chest shuddered under his fingers and his own head lolled back, groaning low in his throat at the feeling.

He didn’t miss the way Bill’s hands moved, seemingly on instinct, to grip his hips at the motion and he thrilled at the pressure of Bill’s fingertips through his sweatpants.

“R-Richie!” Bill gasped, as Richie rocked his hips forward once more, and it was like music to his ears. It’s the first thing Bill had said since pushing Richie away and he all but preened at the feeling of accomplishment.

Bill watched, eyes growing wide for a moment, when Richie stopped moving his hips and placed his hands on Bill’s shoulders. He was moving, climbing off of Bill’s lap, and Bill was beginning to think that was it, his hands falling dejectedly from Richie’s hips. But he quickly realized that Richie was merely sliding down to the floor in front of him.

Seeming to sense his hesitation, Richie looked up at him from the floor between Bill’s legs and threw him a wink. A sigh of relief escaped from Bill; things almost seemed to be back to normal.

“Oh don’t worry Billiam,” Richie teased. His hands, which had dragged down to rest on Bill’s thighs, massage softly at Bill’s covered legs before drifting up to the open waistband. Bill wanted to be cheered by the use of the nicknames, but it felt more like a stab to the gut than the comfort it normally was. “I’m not gonna leave you here without having my way with you.”

Smiling as he said it, Richie leaned in, kissing the insides of Bill’s thighs. Bill was sure Richie’s comment was meant to be a joke. And yet, all he could do was wonder if, once Richie had his way with him, how quickly was he going to leave? Was he going to walk out the door immediately, or wait until Bill fell asleep? Was he going to say goodbye, or would he just be gone when Bill woke up?

Richie’s hands didn’t give him time to contemplate the thought, which was probably a good thing. His fingers were hooking underneath the waistband and tugging ever so slightly, taking Bill’s briefs with them as he pulled down. Bill lifted his hips without being prompted and then his pants were around his ankles. Richie tugged them the rest of the way off, followed by his dress socks and when he began trailing kisses up the insides of Bill’s thighs, it was all Bill could do to keep his emotions in check.

He wasn’t going to give in, he refused to cry as he looked down at Richie placing kisses almost reverently against his skin. In an attempt to ground himself, he started to thread his fingers through Richie’s dark curls.

Richie leaned into the touch, humming contentedly as Bill’s fingers took up residence in his roots. The first swipe of his tongue was careful, almost hesitant, but when Bill’s breath caught softly and he made no move to stop Richie, his second lick was a firm, confident stripe up the underside of Bill’s dick. He could feel Bill shaking as he did so, and he thrived on the feeling of Bill’s grip in his hair tightening at the sensation.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good.” Richie murmured, lifting his head off of Bill’s cock for a moment to look back up at him with an encouraging smile, certain that this was what they needed. He just needed to show Bill that he still wanted him, that he still loved him. Bill’s expression, however, was unreadable.

His hands disentangled themselves from Richie’s hair and Richie almost whined at the loss of contact, but moments later Bill’s hands were hovering hesitantly by his face. Richie turned his head to kiss the palm of one of Bill’s hands and reveled in the soft way Bill stroked his cheek in response. Bill’s fingers gently took ahold of the temple arms of Richie’s glasses, lifting them off his face and folding them carefully. As he placed them on the coffee table, Richie couldn’t help but smile at the gesture.

For a split second, and even though it had a sad quality to it, Bill smiled back at him, and then he was leaning down to kiss Richie gently, his hands still gently holding Richie’s jaw. When he pulled back, Bill was looking down at Richie with a strange combination of hope and fear. And, not knowing what to do with that, Richie lowered his head once more, taking the head back into his mouth, and sucking hard for a moment.

Using his injured hand for balance on Bill’s thigh, he wrapped the fingers of his good hand around the base of Bill’s shaft once more and swirled his tongue slowly around the sensitive head, putting pressure on the sensitive skin underneath the ridge of his head, rubbing his thumb firmly over the vein running along the shaft.

He could hear Bill’s breath shortening above him and feel his hips twitching beneath him, Richie’s strong hand on his thigh the only thing keeping him grounded. He didn’t waste any more time, stretching his lips to take Bill into his mouth. He worked his way down until he could feel the tickle of Bill’s pubic hair against the tip of his nose each time he bobbed up and down, hollowing his cheeks out around the heavy weight of Bill in his mouth.

Bill was overwhelmed by the feeling of the warm, wet heat of Richie’s mouth on his cock, shaking as Richie’s tongue slid over him and his lips dragged up and down his length. Trying his best to keep his hips from bucking into Richie’s mouth, Bill let his fingers find purchase in Richie’s curls once more. As he tugged, Richie’s responding moan sent vibrations straight through his dick and Bill threw his head back, practically choking on his own groans of pleasure.

When Richie’s pace picked up and the pressure of his free hand disappeared from Bill’s thigh, Bill’s inhibitions began to fly away, his hips jerking upward into Richie’s open mouth. For his part, Richie didn’t seem to mind. He moaned encouragingly, as he squeezed his hand firmly around Bill, pumping his fist in time with his head and taking each upward thrust of Bill’s hips in stride.

Richie’s bandaged hand had made its way down between his legs, sliding underneath the waistband of his sweats to palm at his own achingly hard dick. Every noise Bill made, every tug on Richie’s hair, and every thrust of his hips that buried his cock even deeper in Richie’s mouth went straight to Richie’s dick. Feeling Bill begin to let go had Richie increasingly turned on, and as he wiped his thumb over his own head, he could feel a bead of pre-cum forming at the slit.

“R-Richie I’m…”

The grip in his hair was tightening as the words started stumbling out of Bill’s mouth and in seconds Bill was pulling Richie’s head back until his cock was released from Richie’s lips with a faint _pop_. It bobbed in front of his face, red, hard, and shining with the slick of Richie’s spit, as Richie breathed heavily.

Bill looked down at Richie, his breaths also heaving, and his heart rate sped up even further at the sight Richie painted. His curls were askew from the way Bill had been tugging on them, and his lips were pink and swollen. Bill’s heart swelled at the look on Richie’s face, the familiar wicked smile and he felt his dick twitch when his gaze traveled down to see the obvious bulge of Richie’s hand around his cock.

Within a moment, Richie was climbing back onto Bill’s lap and latching onto the soft skin below his jaw. Bill instinctively wrapped his arms back around Richie, loving the feeling of Richie in his arms and savoring it, committing it to memory as he trailed his fingers down Richie’s spine

“I want you to fuck me,” Richie breathed into Bill’s ear, his voice low and his lips just barely brushing against his lobe.

Richie shuddered under Bill’s fingertips, and how could Bill possibly refuse him? He nodded, moving to kiss Richie’s shoulder, biting him gently and nuzzling his face into the crook of Richie’s neck. Thinking but not saying that Richie could have anything. Bill would give him anything he wanted, he just had to ask.

“Do you wanna take this back to the bedroom?” Richie asked, his voice still quiet and seductive in Bill’s ear, though Bill could hear the hesitance in the question.

His fingers froze instantly, no longer rubbing circles into Richie’s back. Bill’s mind rushed back to the rose petals, and the ice bucket with the champagne bottle. He thought of the hours he had spent that morning, ensuring everything would be perfect for Richie when they came home to celebrate. But now there was nothing to celebrate.

He realized that that was the one thing he couldn’t do.

“No,” Bill said softly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Richie, but he could feel him slouching in defeat. “No this...right here is...I ca-can’t go in there.”

Richie nodded silently, a resigned look on his face. Bill could feel the brush of his head as it moved next to Bill’s, and his tears built up again, threatening to spill over, but he wouldn’t give into them. Not this time.

“I have...the stuff is in my bag.” He mumbled softly. “If you still…”

He would understand if Richie was done, if he wanted to stop. But thankfully, Richie just nodded once more, climbing to his feet and crouching in front of Bill on the couch. He stayed there, waiting until Bill could bring himself to look at him, and placed a gentle hand on Bill’s cheek.

Richie leaned in to press a soft kiss to Bill’s lips before standing and walking towards the open door of the bedroom, leaving Bill in his open button down on the couch. It seemed like every time he took a step forward, Bill was taking two steps back and Richie didn’t know if they would be able to meet in the middle. But he was hoping that they still could. Hoped that Bill would be able to forgive him.

Bill didn’t say anything as he walked away and Richie stopped in the doorway, turning to look over his shoulder at his boyfriend. He wasn’t looking at Richie, he was just leaning forward resting his face in his hands, his elbows balancing on his knees.

Richie tore his gaze away before walking into the room, the sight of the petals covering the bed and the floor twisting a knife in his gut once more. He understood, of course, why Bill didn’t want to come in here, and he was starting to feel relieved that Bill had refused. Looking at all of the effort that Bill had put into this was tying his stomach in knots with guilt, and the sight of the lopsided bedspread with the missing pillow reminded him that Bill didn’t even want to sleep next to him.

But that was a dangerous, depressing path that Richie didn’t want his thoughts to go down, and instead he busied himself looking for Bill’s duffel. He knelt down in front of the closet, where it was resting on the floor and tore the zipper open.

The main pocket was a no go, and after a moment of rifling through Bill’s clothes and pajamas, he moved on to the front pocket. He pulled open the zipper and he could see the familiar golden glint of the foil wrapped condoms at the bottom of the compartment, but resting right at the top, thrown carelessly in with Bill’s toiletries, was a blue velvet jewelry box.

Richie’s heart caught in his throat at the sight of it and, against his better judgement, he reached out to pick it up. The velvet was soft and smooth beneath his fingers and the deep navy reminded him of Bill. Strong, dependable, safe. He hadn’t even really looked at it when Bill had taken it out and opened it outside the reception earlier, had been panicking too much at the realization of what was happening. He hadn’t even heard most of what Bill had said to him until that fateful question.

_“No.”_

That was all he had been able to say and, with a look of pure heartbreak on his face, Bill had snapped the box closed.

Glancing over his shoulder once more, Richie double checked that Bill wasn’t following after, wasn’t wondering where he was. Once he was sure he was alone, he began to lift open the top of the box.

It opened with a _snap_ and Richie was greeted by a plush white interior and a smooth, mahogany band set into the divot of the box. Richie felt like all the air had been punched out of him at the sight of it. He ran his fingers over the smooth, stained surface of the wood. It was cool to the touch and so different from anything he would have expected.

It had clearly been handmade by Bill himself. He had probably gone home to Derry and made it in his father’s woodshop, and Richie had no doubt in his mind that if he took it out of the box and tried it on it would fit him perfectly.

As soon as the thought entered his mind, he froze. He knew that he shouldn’t push it, that he would only be making it worse if he continued down that train of thought. But now that the thought was there, he couldn’t push it away and he reached out with shaking fingers to deftly pinch the band between his thumb and forefinger. It slipped free from it’s satin bed with ease and Richie laid it on the palm of his hand, heart hammering in his chest as he admired the craftsmanship, the beauty of the ring Bill had crafted.

He traced the rim with his forefinger so lightly he almost wasn’t touching it at all. And then, with baited breath, Richie slipped the band onto his ring finger. The cool, dark wood slid into place, fitting perfectly around his thin finger and looking beautiful against his skin.

The sight of it had tears welling up once again, wrenching him back to reality. He tore the band off his finger, returning it to its original home, and he snapped the box closed, dropping it back into the duffel as if it had burned him.

He quickly pushed it to the side, pulling out the condoms and lube from beneath it before zipping the compartment tightly closed. Standing, he walked back towards his boyfriend, wanting nothing to do with the duffel and the ring inside it.

The sound of the floorboard creaking under his feet alerted Bill to Richie’s reappearance and he looked up to see his boyfriend watching him hopefully, fiddling with the items in his hands. Bill stood as Richie walked towards him, wringing his hands anxiously until Richie was standing in front of him.

He took the small bottle of lube and the condoms from Richie’s offered hand and tossed them on the couch before taking a step closer. Taking Richie’s face between his palms again, he pulled him in to Bill’s chest and kissed him chastely on the lips, heart buckling as Richie’s hands fell to rest on his hips. His fingers were pressing into Bill’s hips, holding him close, and Bill broke his lips away from Richie’s to press another soft kiss to Richie’s forehead.

Richie would normally make fun of him for doing things like that. _Sentimental shit_ , Richie called it, but he didn’t say anything this time. He just let Bill’s lips brush against his forehead, let his fingers push away the hair that fell over it. Richie simply stood there, as Bill pressed his own forehead against Richie’s. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, although Richie knew it was probably only a few minutes.

Bill took one final breath, inhaling the scent of the cedar shampoo Richie had used and trailed his hands back down to Richie’s hips. He stepped back, leading Richie towards the couch and let his hands slip underneath his t-shirt, lifting it up as they walked. Richie lifted his arms just long enough to allow Bill to pull the shirt over his head and toss it away, before pushing Bill’s shirt the rest of the way off his shoulders.

Tugging off his shirt, Bill fell back into the couch. He pulled Richie forward with him until he was standing between Bill’s legs once more, and spread his palms across Richie’s chest, running up and down his sides in awe, committing every last inch of him to memory.

Leaning in to press his lips to Richie’s stomach, Bill kissed at his abdomen and following the line of hair that led to the waistband of his sweatpants. He could see that Richie’s dick had flagged slightly in the time it had taken him to go to the bedroom, but Bill’s feather light touches and kisses seemed to be bringing interest back in full force.

He slid his fingers into the waistband and pulled down slowly, watching as Richie’s cock was pushed down with the pressure before bobbing free. His thighs were beginning to shake and Bill reached his hands around to cup behind them, pulling Richie back into his lap.

“Come here.” He murmured, voice soft and and soothing as he guided Richie back to his place, and Richie shivered as Bill’s fingertips ghosted up his thighs. He was caressing his ass and dipping them between his cheeks, gliding ever so slightly across his hole. Richie whimpered into Bill’s neck at the feeling, but it was gone as soon as it arrived, as Bill’s hands continued their journey up to his lower back.

Richie’s hands were gripping Bill’s hips for balance as he went back to grinding his hips down into Bill’s, grateful for the steadying hand Bill kept on his lower back. Bill’s touches were so gentle, so loving, and so soft, that Richie didn’t know what to do with them. By all accounts, Bill should be angry with him, _had_ in fact been angry with him earlier in the night. Now, he seemed so resigned, and he was touching Richie with a finality that scared him.

On the other hand, he was trying to touch Bill with an urgency, with a fervor that promised more to come, and he kissed and bit at Bill’s neck desperately, hoping that Bill would understand.

“Please, Bill…” He whined, reaching between them to grip at both of their cocks in one large hand. He pumped them together in his fist, each stroke sending shivers down his spine, but each time it was never enough. He had been feeling empty since they had walked in the door, and even before that. Ever since he had seen the light drain out of Bill’s expression outside the reception.

He needed something to fill that void, he wanted Bill to smile at him, to touch him, to fill him up both physically and emotionally.

“Please, I want you to fuck me,” Richie repeated, groaning the words into Bill’s neck.

“Okay,” Bill whispered, nodding, his head so close that Richie could feel Bill’s cheek against his own. “Okay, Rich.”

Richie’s heart pounded when he heard the soft _click_ of the cap, as Bill flicked open the bottle of lube. They were so close that he was sure Bill would be able to hear it, but Bill didn’t say anything. He just drew his head back and lifted Richie’s chin so he could kiss him once more, while he wrapped his arms around Richie’s back.

As they kissed he could hear the quiet squelching noise of the lube being squeezed out onto Bill’s fingers, and he moaned into Bill’s mouth with the anticipation, as Bill warmed it between his fingers. Moments later, a shudder wracked his body as a wet finger trailed its way between Richie’s cheeks, his gasps swallowed by Bill’s open mouth.

His other hand was secure around Richie’s waist, keeping him from falling backwards, its sturdy strength keeping Richie grounded, as two of his lubed fingers began circling his hole. They pressed firm and gentle against the tight ring of muscle in slow, purposeful motions, and Richie’s knees were growing weak at the sensation. One of the fingers began teasing at the entrance, pressing, as if it was going to push in, but never quite taking it all the way and Richie’s mouth tore away from Bill’s to bury itself into Bill’s shoulder.

“ _Please_ , Bill, I need you,” he whimpered, the sound of his voice slightly muffled and Bill’s heart ached at the words.

He wanted to remind Richie that Bill needed him too. That he needed Richie to be a part of his life, that it was unfair for him to say that when all Bill had been trying to give him was everything he had. But that wasn’t what Richie needed to hear right now, and if this was what Richie was willing to give him before it was all over, then Bill was going to take it.

He pushed the finger in further, down to the first knuckle, letting his thumb rub at the sensitive spot between Richie’s balls and entrance. He loved the way Richie shook in his arms whenever he did this, the way he would fall apart on Bill’s fingers. As he pressed in further, crooking his finger back and forth as he went deeper, he continued kissing Richie’s jaw, throat, shoulder, anything he could reach as he pumped in and out.

As Richie began to relax around his finger, Bill pressed a second finger in, loving the noises Richie made as he rocked backwards on them, welcoming them into him. Babbling in his ears, begging for more, begging Bill to open him up further. Bill listened, acquiescing to each request, wanting to give Richie everything, pouring his love for Richie into each and every touch. He scissored his fingers inside Richie, Richie’s encouraging hiss in his ear at the burn of the stretch keeping him going and adding a third finger.

His fingers were fucking into Richie’s lube slicked hole faster and faster, with Richie grinding back onto them, silent pleas for more combining with the vocal diatribe that was whining into Bill’s ears. He wanted to keep working Richie up, wanted to hear him beg, and usually they would tease each other for hours, but he didn’t have it in him to be rough or contrary with Richie. Not tonight. Tonight was about showing Richie how much he loved him one last time.

So when Richie’s shuddering hips clenched around his fingers, his breath quivering at Bill’s temples, and he asked Bill again, Bill could hardly keep him waiting any longer.

“God, Bill, _please_ ,” Richie begged, pushing backwards in an attempt to take Bill’s fingers in deeper, to feel more of him inside. “Please, please, Bill, I need you inside me, I need more than your fingers,” he continued, the words coming out in a familiar mile a minute pace. “I want you to fill me up...make me feel you.”

“Okay, baby. I’ve got you, anything you want, I’ve got you.”

Whispering in Richie’s ear, Bill’s soothing words combined with the gentle massaging of his hand on Richie’s back as he withdrew his fingers from Richie’s hole. Richie’s whine at the loss went straight to Bill’s dick, and Bill kissed Richie’s temple, before turning to the side to grab a condom from the cushion beside him, tearing the foil open with his teeth.

He brought his hands up to Richie’s on his shoulders, ensuring that Richie was stable before removing his hands from the other man to grip himself in one and roll the condom down carefully with the other. As soon as it was done, Richie was getting up on his shaking knees, positioning himself over Bill, and Bill scrambled to spread more lube over it before Richie was lowering himself down, his fingers digging into Bill’s shoulders.

He sank onto Bill’s cock, his breath catching in his throat as he did so and his shaking legs looking like they were about to give out from the anticipation and exhaustion. It had been such a long day, draining both mentally and physically and this was taking a lot out of both of them. Bill’s hands grabbed Richie’s hips to steady him and Richie let his head fall forward to rest on Bill’s shoulders as he bottomed out.

They stayed still for a moment, and as Richie took a moment to adjust to the feeling of Bill stretching him open and filling him up, he whimpered softly at the soothing circular motions Bill was massaging into his hips with the pads of his thumbs. Even when they weren’t being gentle with each other, Bill never failed to make him feel safe and loved and tonight was no exception. With each touch, Richie felt like things were starting to heal bit by bit and, after a moment of relishing in the feeling of Bill’s soft touches, he began to rock forward.

Bill clenched down harder on Richie’s hips as he moved, moving his hips in shallow upward thrusts to meet Richie as he lifted himself up before sliding back down Bill’s dick. He kept his pace slow, feeling every move Richie made and hearing every noise that came out of his boyfriend’s mouth. Richie’s breathing was quick and stilted in his ear and Bill groaned low in his throat as Richie tightened around him.

He buried his face in Richie’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of him as he pushed up into him, his arms moving from Richie’s hips to wrap tightly around his back as he held him to his chest. He wanted to feel Richie’s heartbeat, he wanted to feel everything there was to feel in that moment.

As Richie settled into the motions he threw his head back, shivering at the way Bill’s teeth gently grazed over his collarbone between kisses. Bill was clinging onto his hips as if he was afraid to let go, but was still keeping a slow, steady pace. He was fucking Richie as if he was fragile, like he thought Richie would break if he thrust into him too hard. It was completely unlike the way they usually touched each other and Richie missed the ferocity that they usually exuded with each other. He wanted Bill to _fuck_ him, he wanted him to touch him the way he always did. He didn’t want this to be different.

He wanted Bill’s hands in his hair, tugging his head back by the roots as he bit kisses into his neck and chest. He wanted to feel those fingers digging into his hips so hard they would be bruised in the morning, thrusting into him hard and fast like it was a race, a competition. His head dragged itself back upward leaning down to press his nose into Bill’s hair as he moaned encouragingly, deep in his throat. Pushing even further, he nipped playfully at Bill’s ear, grinning at the shiver it sent down Bill’s spine

He rocked his hips hard into Bill’s next thrust, a keening whine escaping from him as Bill hit him hard right where he wanted, and when Bill didn’t keep the momentum going, merely continuing his slow, gentle pace, Richie took matters into his own hands. He steadied his grip on Bill’s shoulders for balance and adjusted until he was holding himself up on his knees, no longer just sitting in Bill’s lap.

He lifted himself up until only the very tip of Bill’s cock was left inside him before slamming himself back down, clutching onto Bill’s shoulders. As he bounced up and down on Bill’s shaft, Bill’s hands slid from his hips to wrap around his middle, clinging to Richie as he rode him. He was letting out harsh gasps into Richie’s neck and the sound of it in his ear combined with the way Bill was finally hitting him right in that sweet spot over and over again was getting him closer and closer.

A hot coil of desire was winding itself tightly in his stomach, making him hyper aware of every sensation, from Bill’s fingers on his back, his breath on his throat, his cock in Richie’s ass.

And then a distinct wetness pooling on his shoulder.

Richie’s hips stilled at the feeling, sinking back down slowly until he was resting back on Bill’s thighs. Hesitantly, he moved his hands from their place on Bill’s shoulders to reach for the other man’s jaw, heart wrenching as his fingers touched what were obviously tear tracks dripping down Bill’s cheeks. He didn’t need to look to know what was happening, but he couldn’t keep going as if he didn’t know and he pulled back slightly, lifting Bill’s face level with his own.

Bill’s eyes were red, tears still forming in his eyes. His face was flushed and god, Richie had seen him cry during and even after sex before, it wasn’t anything new in theory, but this wasn’t anything like it had been before. This wasn’t overstimulation, they weren’t happy tears… Bill looked completely broken.

He moved to lift himself off of Bill’s dick so they could talk about it, but as soon as he started, Bill’s hands flew back to his hips, gripping him in place so he couldn’t move.

“Bill, what’s-”

But before he could get any other words out, one of Bill’s hands came to rub harshly at the tears streaking across his face. Richie wanted Bill to talk to him, wanted to know what was going on in his boyfriends head. He had been so sure that this had been the right track towards fixing what had happened, but Bill didn’t give him a chance to ask any more questions. His hand returned to Richie’s hip and pulled him closer until he was pitching forward, all his weight leaning into Bill’s chest as Bill fucked up into him at his fastest pace yet.

Bill was trying to stifle his tears as he held Richie to his chest, bucking his hips up as fast as he could, trying to give Richie what he had asked for. Trying to give him what he wanted. Even though he knew he wouldn’t have been able to hide it forever, he hadn’t wanted Richie to see him crying. On top of the heartbreak he had been feeling, he now felt utterly humiliated. Richie had been about to move, to put a stop to what they were doing to comfort Bill, to take away Bill’s last chance to give him this, to feel this. All because Bill hadn’t been able to hold his goddamn tears in for once in his life.

If Richie asked him to stop, he would, and after a moment he loosened his grip on Richie’s hips, but Richie made no more moves to stop. He had collapsed into Bill’s chest, clinging to his shoulders, his fingers wrapping around the back of Bill’s neck as Bill’s thrusts pushed him up over and over again.

“F-fuck, _Bill_ ,” Richie gasped, his words drowning in Bill’s neck, but still audible.

He was making the most beautiful sounds in Bill’s ears, breathy gasps melting into needy whines, as Bill grunted with the effort of keeping his pace. Richie had begun to push back down slightly, and Bill could feel his mouth falling open, broken sounds pouring out. As he clutched at Bill, his stubby fingernails dug into Bill’s shoulder blades, and Bill began to lose control of his hip motions.

“Is this w-wh-what you w-wanted, Rich?” Bill gasped out, his words coming out in time with his stuttering hips. “W-wanted me to f-f-fuh- _fill_ you up?”

Richie cried out at a particularly hard thrust, nodding rapidly in response against Bill’s shoulder, and Bill shuddered at the way Richie clenched around him.

Richie was babbling again, his hole fluttering as it clenched around Bill, almost as if it was trying to pull him in deeper. Bill didn’t think he could hold out much longer, and Richie was starting to shake in his arms.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my _god_ ,” Richie cried. He was practically choking on his words, trying to get them out, his chest and his stomach clenching, his legs twitching on either side of Bill’s. Within seconds, his whole body convulsed in Bill’s lap and his warm, wet cum splattered all over Bill’s chest. “Fuck, Bill, I love you. God, I love you so much.”

Richie’s face was buried in Bill’s neck as he said it, but hearing those words was all it took to push Bill over the edge. He spilled into the condom, riding out the last few thrusts into Richie, as he held him tight to his chest.

Even as his breathing slowed, Bill didn’t let go of Richie, holding him close and pressing his nose into Richie’s hair, finally letting his tears fall. It was over.

He didn’t know what to do or how to react to what Richie had let slip during his orgasm. Of course Richie had told him that he loved him thousands of times before, but that was all before Bill had scared him off. Before he had ruined any chance at a future with Richie. If Richie really loved him, why had he said no?

It had to have been something that just came out in the heat of the moment, but Bill still couldn’t help but take comfort in having heard it even one last time.

Richie made no move to climb off Bill’s lap, even as he felt Bill softening inside him and could feel his own cum turning tacky between them. Now that they had finished, he found himself needing the closeness as much as Bill seemed to, and he didn’t want to let go.

They held each other for a long time, breathing each other in, their shaking limbs slowly calming, as Richie clung tighter as he felt Bill press a soft, teary kiss to his temples.

“I meant it you know.”

Bill froze underneath him and Richie finally pushed himself back to sit upright, locking eyes with his boyfriend.

“I meant what I said.” He repeated, not tearing his eyes away, needing Bill to understand. He needed Bill to know that he didn’t want this to be the end. “I love you. I didn’t just say it because of the sex. I meant it.”

Bill nodded stiffly in response. He wanted to believe that Richie loved him. He wanted nothing more than for that to be true. But he didn’t know how to respond to that, after everything that had already happened. Bill pulled away from Richie’s gaze and bit his lip, looking at Richie’s thighs on either side of him. His flaccid dick was resting against Bill’s stomach and his cum, spread over both of their chests, was drying quickly.

“Bill?”

“Let’s get cleaned up, okay?” He offered, not ready to meet Richie’s eyes again, and tapped at the other man’s hips gently, indicating for him to get up.

Richie hesitated for a moment but nodded quietly, lifting himself up on his knees, his breath hitching for a moment as Bill pulled out, and Bill finally looked up at him. The expression on Richie’s face was confusing. He looked afraid, but he also looked determined and Bill sighed, leaning up to kiss him softly, as he lifted him off his lap and placed him back on the couch.

Bill could feel Richie’s eyes burning holes in his back as he walked to the bathroom. It was impossible to ignore. But, instead of focusing on it, he busied himself with tying off the condom and tossing it into the trash can. Bill’s mind was racing as he took a washcloth off the shelf, and ran the hot water. He held his fingers under the stream for a few moments, waiting for the water to heat up, before soaking the cloth with it and turning the faucet back.

After wringing it out, he looked up at his reflection in the mirror. He looked exhausted.

 _Haggard_ , his writer’s brain supplied.

A glance to the clock told him it was four o’clock in the morning, and God, they were much too old to be pulling all nighters like this. But Bill knew his night was far from over.

With one final sigh and twist of the cloth in his hand, he made his way back into the living room. Richie was on the couch, right where he had left him, the same concerned look on his face from when he had noticed Bill was crying. Bill knelt down onto the couch beside Richie, gently wiping away the cum from Richie’s chest before wiping himself down.

When he finished, he let the towel hang limp in his hands, unsure of where to go from there. Richie didn’t seem quite as lost, however, and reached out to take it from his hands and tossed it on the floor before taking Bill’s hands in his own.

“We need to talk about this, Bill.”

“I know,” Bill replied, bringing Richie’s hand to his lips, leaving a delicate kiss on his palm. “But can we get dressed first?”

And, for what felt like the first time in forever, Richie smiled a genuine smile. Bill was making a joke, an honest to God joke. Maybe sex, with the intimacy and natural release of tension, had been what they needed to finally be vulnerable all along. “Yeah, asshole, we can. I don’t want you getting distracted by my sexy ass the whole time, anyway.”

For one brief moment, it was as if everything was back to normal. Bill rolled his eyes at his boyfriend’s false bravado, releasing his hands to head to the bedroom. He almost hesitated at the threshold, but forced himself to push through it. The room only had as much power as he gave it.

His bag, however, was a different story. Bill stared at it for a moment, not moving, imagining the ring box in the pocket. His eyes fell closed, as he breathed in slowly. The sting of rejection was still there, but Richie wanted to talk and told Bill that he loved him. So it probably wasn’t a break up talk just yet...right?

The thought was enough to push Bill to open the main zipper and pull out his pajamas, the comfortable fabric immediately causing his eyes to flutter shut. Despite his exhaustion, emotional and physical, Bill forced his eyes back open.

He returned to the couch and to Richie, who had his pajamas back on as well. Well, that wasn’t quite true. They were Bill’s old pajamas, that Richie had stolen from him when he said he wanted to sleep with Bill’s scent, even when they were apart. Every once in awhile Richie would give them back to Bill so he could ‘freshen them up’ as he said. Bill had somewhat jokingly told Richie that it was creepy, but complied anyway. ‘Anything for Richie’ might as well have been Bill’s motto.

Bill sat on the couch cross-legged, his hands in his lap, looking down. There were a few moments of silence, before Richie turned towards Bill, tugging on his arm until Bill did the same.

“Why didn’t you talk to me about it before you asked?” Richie questioned, jumping right into the deep end, and Bill felt the biting cold immediately in his chest, tears beginning to well up once more.

“I just...figured since we had been together so long, I didn’t need to. I just assumed you would say yes,” Bill stated, a tear slipping from his eyes, unbidden. He wiped it away harshly, as if he was punishing his eye for allowing it to happen.

Richie leaned forward, pulling Bill’s gaze up to his own, before replying, “I assumed since you hadn’t asked yet and we’d never talked about it, that you weren’t going to.”

As Bill’s face fell again, the silence taking back its comfortable residence in the cabin, Richie reached out and took Bill’s hands in his own. He rubbed his thumbs over Bill’s knuckles, trying to reassure him, before asking the big question.

“Why do you want to get married?”

Biting his lip, Bill closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before he answered. “I’ve always wanted to get married.”

“That’s not an answer, Bill. You know what I mean,” Richie insisted, holding Bill’s hands a little tighter, hoping Bill would get the message that he wasn’t trying to be rude; he just needed to know. “Why, all of a sudden, do you want to get married? We’ve been together for years and you’ve never even mentioned it once. And don’t just say because of Ben and Beverly’s wedding, because we went to Stan and Patty’s wedding and you didn’t say anything.”

“I don’t know,” Bill started, but that wasn’t true. He did know. He was just trying to figure out how to say it. “I’ve been thinking about it for awhile. I thought about proposing on our second year anniversary, but then I decided to make the ring, which took longer than I thought. Now you know why I kept visiting my parents,” Bill remarked, Richie exhaling with a smile on his face. He had been curious.

“There was just... one day, when you were still asleep, and I was looking at how beautiful you were. And all I could think about was that I couldn’t bear to lose you. I wanted you to be mine forever,” Bill explained, his voice breaking, as tears started flowing freely from his eyes.

Richie released his boyfriend’s hands, placing his own hands on Bill’s face, gently wiping his tears away. His own eyes were going glossy at Bill’s admission and how much emotion was truly behind it. The two of them didn’t usually speak to each other like this. Their love was strong and expansive, but generally this kind of tenderness was understood to be there, unspoken. Hearing how Bill felt about him, really felt about him deep down, nearly overwhelmed Richie entirely.

“And then, when I finished the ring, I wanted to wait for the perfect time. I’ve had it for months, just sitting in my pocket. And Beverly asked me to give her away, which seemed like it made this weekend a perfect opportunity, you know? Almost like a practice run, you at one end of the aisle, and me meeting you there,” Bill smiled, looking dreamily at Richie, but the pain was still clear in his eyes.

For once, Trashmouth Tozier, the jabber jaws, was stunned silent. What could he even say to that? Richie didn’t spend much time thinking about the future. He tried his hardest to live in the moment and, when you were dating someone like Bill Denbrough, it generally wasn’t that hard. But Richie guessed that wasn’t entirely true, now that all these dreams and aspirations were spilling out of his boyfriend’s mouth, all entirely new to him.

Richie’s hands fell from Bill’s face, and he looked down at his lap, unsure of what to do. It was so jarring, considering the wedding in this new context. Watching Bill come down the aisle, Richie had thrown him a flirtatious wink, smiling when Bill glared at him, but had blushed anyway. He had been thinking about how handsome his boyfriend was in a suit, how excited he was for Ben and Beverly, and how much he couldn’t wait to get hammered and dance the night away. Richie’s thoughts were entirely focused on the event, while Bill had been dreaming of the future.

Frustration started to build; Richie was hating Bill for dreaming of a future Richie wasn’t sure he wanted, and hating himself for not noticing. He wasn’t sure how he would have figured it out but after being with someone for years, Richie felt like he should have been able to read Bill’s mind a little, or at least his expressions. But he hadn’t seen it, felt it, or noticed in any way, and every revelation felt like he was being tackled by a linebacker.

When Richie looked up, the silence settling in again, Bill stared back at him, face tired and eyes glossy. His face wore a worried expression, and Richie couldn’t blame his boyfriend. For the first time in the night, it was Richie who couldn’t hold Bill’s gaze, not the other way around.

“I don’t know what to say,” Richie said finally, knowing it was a useless statement, but feeling like he needed to say something.

Silence settled in once more as Richie tried to wrack his brain for something, anything, to say. Finally, though, Bill spoke up.

“So, you w-w-want to break up?” Bill’s voice was shaking as he stuttered the question out.

By the look in his eyes, Bill had clearly been holding onto that question all night, not wanting to ask, but needing to know. He sat on it in anxious anticipation, both the same and entirely different from the feeling he had when waiting to ask Richie to marry him. And now, he was hoping for the answer he’d been dreading earlier.

Richie’s eyes grew wide as he took in a deep breath, scooting even closer to Bill, their knees flush against each other. “No, Bill. Fuck no. I never want to break up with you. I...that’s why I’ve been so worried. You’re all I want and I’ve been scared all night that when I said no, I lost you.”

Bill’s brow furrowed, confusion written on his face, as he tried to process Richie’s words.

“Then why would you say no?”

The question was so delicate, almost whispered, that Richie wasn’t even sure it was meant for him. Maybe Bill was asking himself, or the universe, but they were finally talking, and Richie needed it to continue, to resolve something. The undetermined fate of their relationship was killing him. “Because I want to be with you, I just don’t want to get married.”

“Well, _why_ don’t you want to g-get married?”

Shifting positions, Bill leaned forward, suddenly looking attentive, like Richie’s confessions had finally ignited some life back into him. The question finally came, the one that was sure to come. And yet, Richie still felt entirely unprepared to answer. “I’ve just never wanted to. I don’t get why we need to. I love you, and I’ve always loved you and I always will. We live together and I’m entirely dedicated to you. Why do we have to prove it to anyone else?”

“It’s not to _prove_ anything. It’s…”  Bill’s face was screwing up in an adorably frustrated way, pausing as he tried to come up with the words to explain to Richie what this meant to him. “It’s to celebrate, have a day dedicated to just us. And I’ve always wanted a family, you know? I want _us_ to be a family,” Bill admitted, his eyes so earnest and longing for Richie to understand.

But he didn’t. Not yet, at least. “Is that what it takes to be a family? Marriage? Because the seven of us have always felt like family,” Richie responded, taking Bill’s hands in his again. “And the two of us even moreso. We’ve always been connected.”

Bill closed his eyes as Richie took his hand, savouring the tender touch, letting Richie’s words really sink in. He loved him. He didn’t want to break up. It was the marriage he wasn’t sure about, and Bill could handle that...couldn’t he?

When his eyes opened, Bill was greeted by Richie’s worried expression. But Bill smiled, a small but warm smile, and leaned forward, kissing Richie on the lips. The kiss, tender and sweet, said more than Bill would have been able to with words. It was patient and soft, intimate and promising more without pushing towards it. Richie sighed as Bill pulled away, feeling considerably less tense.

As Bill broke away from Richie’s lips, he leaned back on the couch, letting his head fall back on the pillow, tugging Richie’s arm with him. Understanding the request, Richie laid himself down too, head falling on Bill’s chest, finding its natural resting place. He savored the comforting feeling, and the gentle beating of Bill’s heart.

Turning his head towards Bill, Richie pushed himself up until he reached his boyfriend’s neck, leaving a trail of kisses, ending at his collarbone. Bill hummed in pleasure and contentment, the warmth of Richie’s body and the peace in his mind finally allowing him to drift off into sleep.

But, as Bill’s eyes fell shut and he slowed his breathing, his eyes flew open as Richie spoke.

“What are we going to do?”

His voice was sleepy and quiet, but worried. In response, Bill started running his fingers through Richie’s hair, his other arm wrapping around his boyfriend’s waist.

“Are you set on not getting married, or do you think you might change your mind?” Bill asked, his voice tentative and careful, but he couldn’t conceal the hope in the question.

His boyfriend took so long to answer, that Bill was almost sure he had fallen asleep. But then Richie stirred, tilting his head up to look him in the eye and, with an earnest look in his eyes replied, “I don’t know. Do you think _you_ might?”

“I don’t know, either.”

“Well...could we table it?” Richie offered, continuing when Bill gave him a confused look. “You know, like we both think about it for a couple months, both adjust to the idea of either option, and see where we end up?”

Richie’s question was filled with such hope at the end, Bill almost started to tear up again. He knew that Richie loved him, but the true impact had never really hit him. Bill wondered if it had never really hit Richie until now, either.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Can I think about it and get back to you?”

The clear sarcasm made Richie roll his eyes and pinch Bill’s side, causing his boyfriend to squirm beneath him, but laugh. “Really, Bill? Right now? You’re being a fucking asshole.”

“Okay, okay, Trashmouth, I’m sorry.” Bill replied, sealing the apology with a soft kiss to Richie’s forehead. “I think tabling sound like a great idea. But we both have to really consider the alternative. Deal?”

Bill brough his hand out, extending his pinky towards Richie. He laughed at the old tradition of theirs, pinky promises for everything from jumping off the cliff at the quarry, to doing something stupid to the Bowers’ Gang, to promising to be friends forever. But the offer made Richie feel safe and reminded him how long he and Bill had really been together, romantically or otherwise.

“Deal.” Richie said, taking Bill’s pinky with his own, and leaning up to kiss Bill, as Bill leaned down to meet him halfway. “I love you,” he mumbled into Bill’s lips as they separated.

“I love you, too,” Bill replied, rubbing Richie’s side, as he hummed one of Richie’s favorite songs softly.

It wasn’t long before Richie was snoring on Bill’s chest, and it was unsurprising to Bill. He had witnessed Richie’s marvelous talent to fall asleep at the drop of a hat countless times. But Bill wanted to make sure his boyfriend got not just a night’s sleep, but a _good_ night’s sleep.

“Richie,” he said softly, pushing his arm to try to wake him. “Richie, get up for a second. We need to get you to the bed.”

Grumbling at being awoken, Richie whined, before replying. “I don’t want...to go to the bed. I want...to sleep with...you.”

His words were breathy, slow, and heavily spaced, but Bill still smiled at Richie being clingy, even when half asleep. And, now that the tension had left and things were closer to settled, Bill wasn’t as bothered by the idea of the room anymore. “I’ll sleep there with you.”

“You...promise?” Richie asked.

“Yeah, I promise,” Bill said, slipping out from under Richie.

He picked him up, bridal style, and carried him to the room, Richie’s arms naturally wrapping around Bill’s neck. Bill had imagined this exact scenario when he thought they’d be engaged when they returned to the cabin. But, in that universe, he’d laid Richie down on the bed, popped the champagne, and they’d spent the rest of the night in bed together.

Bill would admit that it still hurt even now, coming in to the adorned room, knowing the celebratory decorations had been wasted, and knowing why. He pushed those feelings away, though, focusing instead on Richie’s sleepy face. It was nice seeing his boyfriend like this, the calm and serene air much different than his typical excitable, off-the-wall behavior. And while Bill loved Richie any way he could have him, there was something special about seeing him at peace like this.

Gently lowering Richie to the bed, Bill pulled his arms out from under Richie carefully. When Richie turned but didn’t stir, Bill let the breath he was holding go and took one last lingering look at his boyfriend, before heading to the bathroom.

Bill was dead tired, but he was also filthy from sweating in his tux all day. And using the washcloth to clean himself and Richie off after sex had only shown him how much he was in need of a proper shower. In bed, Richie was snoring in the rhythmic pattern Bill had grown to love, as it instantly put him to sleep normally, despite his typical insomnia.

As he shed his clothes, Bill turned the water on, waiting for it to warm up. He saw the rose petals littered around the garbage can, most of them not having made it in. And as he checked the water again, Bill noticed a few pieces of the tile Richie had missed after he had a boxing match with the wall. He picked up the fragments, trying to fight the sinking feeling he had, as he gathered them into the trash, along with the petals.

Never had Bill imagined that his proposal would lead Richie to physical violence until his hand bled. And something about the juxtaposition of the soft, romantic petals next to the sharp, bloody ceramic pieces made Bill’s heart ache. They didn’t belong in the same house, let alone the same garbage can, and it reminded Bill how wrong he had been, how nothing seemed as he thought it was.

He was overreacting, right? They’d decided that they would wait and Richie told him how much he wanted him and loved him. But a voice in the back of his mind kept playing the rejection over and over again, and every little reminder brought it closer to the front of his mind, into clearer focus. And the sharper the image got, the more it stung again, making Bill feel sore all over, like gravity was pushing in on all sides.

 

Bill tied the bag, hoping it would make those thoughts fade, as he jumped in the shower. The warm water was nice and comforting, and the steam cleared his sinuses, his nose still stuffy from crying earlier. Things would be better when they were home; it would be easier to get back in their groove. Right?

But every thought about things improving scared Bill. He had thought he had known the situation and answer before, and he had been life changingly wrong. And could he risk being wrong again? Would they go home and pretend and wait and just end up at the same conclusion? That they needed to break up because Richie wouldn’t, couldn’t marry him, for some reason?

Getting out before he had even really finished cleaning himself all the way, Bill grabbed a towel and dried himself off. The hot air and bad thoughts were starting to turn his stomach, and Bill felt he urgently needed to get out of the room.

And, just as he was slipping his pajama pants back on, he heard a knock at the door, and saw Richie stirring on the bed, but not awake yet. Bill walked quickly and quietly, wondering who would be knocking this early in the morning. But as he turned the knob and saw Mike’s face, Bill remembered. Of course, the phone call he had made earlier.

“Hey Bill,” Mike said, an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. My phone died and then I didn’t see the message until right before I went to sleep. Are you guys doing alright? Richie’s still alive in there, isn’t he?”

Bill smiled at the sore excuse for a joke and opened the door enough that Mike could see Richie in the bedroom. “He’s sleeping,” Bill replied simply. “And I’m not sure. Things have been...tense, but we might have figured out a solution.”

 _I hope,_ he thought, but didn’t add.

“Oh, okay. Well, should I go then? Or do you still want to come with me? There’s an extra bed in my suite,” Mike offered, noticing Bill’s hesitation to say things were okay.

Contemplating his answer as he looked back at his boyfriend sleeping, Bill let out a sigh. Part of him was afraid that they were just delaying the inevitable, that neither of them would change their minds, and it might be even harder then to break up. And that would make this night of pain and torture feel useless. Bill wasn’t sure he could feel like this again, he didn’t think he could survive the anguish. Even just the thought that this could happen again made Bill want to jump in Mike’s car and tell him to keep driving until they ran out of gas.

But, as he saw Richie there, peacefully sleeping, and remembered the hope in his voice, the warmth his eyes and his admissions of undying love, Bill knew he couldn’t leave. He had to try because Richie was worth the worst pain he could imagine, even if it was just for a chance to be with the man he so desperately loved forever.

“I’m gonna stay,” Bill said, surprised at the confidence in his tone. “But thanks for driving out here, Mike. Sorry I wasted your time.”

Mike smiled though, clearly glad that his friends weren’t fighting anymore. “What are friends for, Bill?” he replied, as he pulled Bill in for a hug, before waving goodbye and heading back to his car.

Bill sighed as he watched Mike drive away, noticing the sun rising over the horizon, the hues beautiful, warm, and inviting. He smiled as the new day dawned, hoping it would bring him and Richie a new start.

He closed the door, feeling much different than when he had closed it earlier, no desire to beat his head against it or hold his breath until it hurt. The only desire he had was to crawl into bed with Richie and finally get some rest. As Bill laid down in bed, he reached forward, wrapping his arms around Richie’s middle, and Richie hummed happily in between his snores. Bill drifted off to sleep quickly, the rhythm of Richie’s snores lulling him into unconsciousness.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! You and find me on tumblr at bigbill-denbrough and R/killerqueer, who wrote all that great smut in the middle, at sunflowerstozier. They are the best and this fic couldn't exist without them <3
> 
> And, as always, kudos and comments are super welcome!


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